


taking flight

by thedevilsgarden



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 12:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17725109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilsgarden/pseuds/thedevilsgarden
Summary: First dates can be hard; theirs is no different.





	taking flight

When Cordelia suggested they meet at a French bistro for their first date, Misty wasn’t quite sure what to expect. She imagined something extremely ornate, a place with gold leaf on the walls, and she pictured a bunch of snooty, privileged people, all silently judging her appearance. But the reality is a lot more pleasant and understated than anything she might have expected. 

The restaurant Cordelia has chosen is made up of a few small rooms, each lit by hanging lamps that emit warm, ochre light and reflect dully off the wooden floors. The tables are draped with white, textured cloths and shining silverware, and the patrons speak softly to one another, the murmur of conversation barely audible over the light clinking of glasses and plates. It’s an intimate space, almost cozy, and Misty suspects that’s why Cordelia chose it; to make her comfortable. 

The host, a dark-haired man in a tailored suit, asks for her name and then types it into his keyboard. Misty waits, craning her neck to see if she can spot Cordelia at any of the tables. 

She feels like she hasn’t seen Cordelia in days; not since Cordelia asked her out earlier in the week. In fact, Cordelia hasn’t set foot in the greenhouse since then, hasn’t so much as touched her arm or brushed by her in the kitchen, and that lack of contact for so long has left Misty feeling a bit nervous about tonight. 

“No reservation under Day,” the host says. 

“Oh. Sorry, it’s under Goode.”

“Ah. Yes.”

Once the host locates the reservation on his computer screen, he smiles and picks up two menus set in leather.

“Right this way.” 

Misty follows him through the first room of the restaurant, a bit unsteady in her heels. None of the patrons have so much as glanced at her as she walks by, but Misty still tugs at the ends of her dress, which is regretfully far above her knees, and wonders if Zoe and Madison dressed her appropriately for a place like this. 

The host leads her through the second room, briefly glancing behind him to make sure she’s following, and that is when she sees Cordelia. 

She’s seated at one of the tables, idly browsing the cocktail menu, and she is so striking in the soft glow of the lamplight that Misty’s breath catches in her throat. Cordelia’s head is slightly tilted as she reads, brown eyes flitting across the page, and Misty wonders if she’s nervous, too. 

Then Cordelia must sense Misty’s presence, or at least the presence of her magic, because she looks up quite suddenly and spots Misty approaching the table. 

“Hi.” Cordelia stands and approaches her, her lips parting almost in surprise as she takes in Misty’s appearance. “You look…” 

Her eyes flit down to Misty’s dress, and for a while Misty is similarly distracted, because Cordelia looks absolutely stunning. She’s always beautiful, of course, always immaculate in those buttoned blouses and skirts, but tonight she’s wearing a red dress that cuts off just above the knee and has a slit running up to her thigh, with a neckline that dips far lower than those corporate shirts she wears to class, and it has a different effect entirely. She looks a bit unlike herself, with the bold makeup and the fancy earrings, and something about getting to see her like this when no one else at the school does, is sort of thrilling. 

At this point Misty realizes that she’s staring, but it’s almost impossible to stop. 

“You look wonderful,” Cordelia says. Her eyes are shining brightly, and her face is so flooded with emotion, Misty is worried she might cry. “I’m so happy we’re doing this.”

“Me too.” 

Cordelia briefly squeezes her wrist before she sits down, and Misty’s chest tightens the way it does every time Cordelia touches her. She misses the contact instantly. 

“So, I spoke with the mayor,” Cordelia says, as Misty takes her seat opposite her. “He’s concerned about the curriculum.”

Misty grimaces and thinks, Again?

“Apparently,” Cordelia says with a smile. “Our class on potions and herbs does not qualify as a chemistry course.” 

Misty barely musters a smile in response, too entranced by the soft quirk of Cordelia’s lips, the way her eyes crinkle at the edges. Her skin is buzzing with the need to touch this woman, for some kind of contact, and she has to curls her fingers into fists to keep from reaching across the table to take Cordelia’s hand. She isn’t sure how that would be received, if they’re even in the territory of holding hands. Which is odd, because they’ve held hands before.

It’s their first date, but they’re already good friends, so do they skip the usual steps and rituals, or do those still apply? The uncertainty claws at her so much that her stomach starts to twist.

She’s never been bothered by her inexperience with romance before, but right now she wishes she’d asked Madison or Zoe a few questions. 

She also realizes that Cordelia has stopped talking and is clearly waiting for her to say something. Misty desperately searches her brain for an appropriate topic, grasping for even a shred of a thought, until Cordelia mercifully fills the silence herself, commenting on how lovely the restaurant is, how someone from the town council meetings recommended it to her. 

Misty nods along and smiles.

As Cordelia open up her menu, Misty does the same. Cordelia is still talking, now about the progress of their newest student, and she only stops to pause when their waiter arrives to take their orders; Misty gets the penne, Cordelia gets the chicken breast. 

“She’s so quiet,” Cordelia is saying. “I’m not sure she feels settled yet.”

This is probably Misty’s favorite side of Cordelia: the nurturer, the teacher, an almost maternal figure in these students’ lives. Cordelia has never mentioned having children of her own, but a short while before the test of the seven wonders, Madison made a cruel joke about her infertility, and Cordelia practically winced. 

She wonders if Cordelia still wants to have a child, now that she has perfect health and definitely can, or if that was all part of another life, a life in which she was married to a lying, cheating witch-hunter. Misty wants to ask her about it, but she worries it’s too personal, too strange a question for a first date. 

But Misty already knows so much about Cordelia, it feels wrong to ask for her favorite color or her ideal vacation spot. After everything they’ve been through, those things feel so inconsequential. 

Cordelia’s phone buzzes from her purse, and she apologizes as she leans over to silence it. As she bends, Misty watches her breasts strain against the tight, form-fitting material of her dress. She briefly wonders what Cordelia would look like out of that dress, and is surprised by herself. 

It isn’t like her to have those sorts of thoughts in the first place, to think about being intimate with someone. She’s been friends with Cordelia for a long time, and she’s never once gone there. But maybe it’s normal now, now that they’re dating, now that everything is out in the open. Maybe that’s why all of these thoughts, all of these feelings she tried to bury (back when she thought they were one-sided), are barreling towards her all at once. 

And once the floodgates open, apparently there’s no stopping those thoughts from floating in, because as Cordelia sits back up and smiles, those full red lips quirking upward, Misty can’t help but picture that mouth, those soft lips, sucking at her neck, leaving traces of lipstick all over her stomach and on the insides of her thighs. She wants to feel that mouth everywhere, wants to see how Cordelia looks with her head tilted back, eyes shut, lips parted. 

“Misty?” Cordelia frowns. “Are you all right?”

Misty nods, praying that her cheeks aren’t as hot and flushed as they feel. 

“I’m great.”

The waiter arrives with their food, and the second he sets down her plate, Misty stabs a few pieces of penne with the tongs of her fork and starts chewing, hoping food will provide a sufficient distraction.

But Cordelia is eating, too, and each time her lips close around her fork, it turns into an unintentionally sensual display, which does little to curb Misty’s thoughts. Misty shifts in her chair, thighs pressed together as she stares down at her food and studiously avoids eye contact.

It’s a strange combination, wanting Cordelia and also feeling so full of affection for her that her heart could burst at any moment. 

And all of that feeling builds up inside of her, fills her chest and makes breathing difficult. Misty finds herself starting to get a bit overwhelmed, and she has to place her hands on her thighs to stop them from trembling. Eventually, though, her fingers involuntarily start to ball into fists, clenching around the ends of her dress and bunching up the material. She’s so on edge she nearly jumps when Cordelia says her name.

“Misty?” Cordelia gestures to her own plate. “Would you like to try some?”

Misty shakes her head, focused completely on the food in front of her, on shoveling forkful after forkful into her mouth. It isn’t until she’s eaten every last morsel on her plate that she realizes that Cordelia has stopped talking. She’s been silent for a while, but it catches Misty off guard, that she didn’t notice sooner. 

Before she has a chance to fill the silence, their waiter approaches the table, hands clasped in front of him. 

“Dessert, ladies?”

Cordelia hesitates, glancing over at Misty. 

“Oh,” Misty says. “Yeah, we’ll have dessert.”

The waiter hands them each a small dessert menu and clears away their entrées. Cordelia smiles politely and thanks him, but the moment he steps away, her smile starts to slip.

“We don’t have to order anything,” she says quietly. “I know you’re probably eager to get home.”

“What?” Misty shakes her head. “No, I…I like dessert.”

Cordelia nods, and Misty watches her chest rise and fall as she takes a long, shuddering breath. 

“I know I surprised you the other day,” she says. “When I told you how I felt.”

Misty nods. She remembers every moment of it, how the sunlight was streaming through the windows of the greenhouse, the light hitting Cordelia from behind as she walked through the entrance, casting a glow around her. 

Cordelia was so nervous; Misty remembers how her hands began to shake halfway through her confession, and how Misty held them and squeezed until they stopped. Everything about that moment is seared into her mind, every detail, forever. 

She opens her mouth to speak, but Cordelia isn’t finished. 

“I realize now that you may have felt some pressure to…reciprocate. Given my role at the school.” Cordelia isn’t looking at her now; she has averted her gaze and is busying herself with readjusting the serviette in her lap. “But I want you to know that…it’s all right if you don’t feel the same way. I don’t expect anything from you. And I never would have asked you on a date if I’d known it would make you so uncomfortable. We can just be friends again, like we were before. We’ll put this all behind us and-”

“What?” Misty cuts in. She feels a bit like she’s gotten whip-lash; just three days ago Cordelia was telling her how much she wants to be with her, and now she’s ending things in the middle of their first date, before they’ve even paid their bill. “What’re you talking about? I’m not uncomfortable.”

“Misty…” Cordelia sighs. “You’ve barely said two words to me since we got here.”

“That isn’t-”

“It is,” Cordelia says. There is a hitch in her voice and her eyes have begun to well up with tears, even as she fights to remain impassive. “Please, let’s just put this behind us.”

“No,” Misty says, a strong sense of urgency rising up inside of her. The thought of losing Cordelia makes her feel physically ill. “No, I don’t want that.”

Cordelia manages a small, tired smile as she blinks back tears. “Misty…” 

“I’m sorry,” Misty says, and she can feel all of her repressed anxiety and emotions from the whole evening start to rise up inside of her in a panicked flurry. “I’m sorry I ruined our date, it’s just…God, I have no clue how I’m s’posed to act around you anymore.”

Cordelia blinks at her uncomprehendingly. 

“What?”

“I don’t know what the rules are,” Misty says.

“The rules?”

“Yeah, the rules. It’s like everythin’s the same, like it was before, but the rules are different. I don’t know what I’m s’posed to do. An’ I hate that I’m so nervous. I’ve been nervous ever since you came in wearin’ that.” She gestures vaguely at Cordelia’s dress.

“I…wanted to look nice for you,” Cordelia says, glancing down at her dress somewhat self-consciously. “For our date.”

“But it’s not nice! That’s why I was spooked. You don’t look nice, you look…” Misty tries very hard to find the word, a word that will encompass every complimentary adjective in the English language, that will combine ‘sexy’ with ‘beautiful’ and also ‘love of my life’, but there just isn’t one. “An’ it made me want things, things I never thought about much before. Bedroom things, with you. But I’m not sure if I’m s’posed to tell you that I want those things, or just keep it to myself. Or if you want them, too. Or when that’s even supposed to happen.”

“Oh,” Cordelia breathes, but Misty isn’t finished.

“And that’s not even the worst part,” she says, tears of frustration springing to her eyes. “The worst part is that you won’t touch me. You haven’t all week. It’s like you won’t go anywhere near me because every touch has to have some extra meanin’ to it now, and I hate it.”

Cordelia averts her gaze, and Misty can tell that she’s running through the past few days in her mind, going over their interactions. 

“I miss touchin’ you. All I’ve wanted to do all night is touch you,” Misty says, and the laugh she releases is completely void of humor. “It’s crazy; I miss you so much and you’re only sittin’ three feet away from me.”

She isn’t looking at Cordelia anymore, she can’t, but the words keep coming anyway.

“I’ve never felt like this about anybody before, like my chest is gonna explode, or my heart’s gonna seize up, an’ I’m so scared I’m gonna say the wrong thing, something that’ll make you leave, or-”

“Misty.”

At the sound of her name, Misty snaps out of her rambling and looks up. She is alarmed to find that Cordelia’s eyes are shining with tears, and for one horrible moment, she thinks she’s ruined everything. That this is something they can’t come back from.

But then Cordelia smiles, small and trembling, and the tension building up inside of Misty eases. 

“You really feel that much for me?” Cordelia asks.

There is hope swimming in those dark eyes, and surprise, too, and the pain from earlier has vanished.

“Yes,” Misty breathes. “’Course I do, I love you.”

Cordelia’s smile slips, her eyes widening a fraction. “You…what?”

Misty hesitates; she realizes Cordelia didn’t use those words a few days ago, but that doesn’t mean she can’t use them now.

“I love you,” Misty repeats, with intent this time, and maybe she should be embarrassed by the admission, but she only feels warm, lighter now that it’s out in the open instead of bottled up inside her chest, pressing down on her heart. 

Cordelia swallows thickly, more tears gathering in her eyes. Then, without saying a word, she drops her serviette onto the table and rises to her feet. Misty assumes she’s going to leave, just grab her purse and walk out of the restaurant. But then Cordelia drags her chair to the side of the table, so that it’s adjacent to Misty’s, and sits down. 

She only hesitates for a second, and then takes Misty’s face in her hands and kisses her. And Misty is so relieved she could cry. She can feel her heart shake with emotion, jostled by the tender way Cordelia’s thumb brushes against her cheek, the way her lips feel, soft and full, pressed up against her own. It’s so much, and not enough at all, and Misty aches for Cordelia in a way she never has for anyone else, aches to be close to her, to hold her and love her and never let go.

They trade several charged kisses, and when they break apart, they’re both breathless, and Cordelia rests her forehead against Misty’s for a few quiet moments as her breathing evens out. By now, a few couples from the other tables are eying them warily, so Misty pulls back. Cordelia doesn’t seem to notice the attention; she smiles at Misty, her cheeks flushed pink, and that’s when Misty notices that her lipstick is smudged. Which means it’s probably all over Misty’s mouth, too. 

“Sorry,” Cordelia says, reaching up to clean some of the lipstick from Misty’s mouth with her thumb. Once she’s finished, Misty presses a kiss to the pad of her finger, and Cordelia blushes. 

“Come here,” Cordelia says. She opens her arms, and Misty falls into her embrace, clinging to her as Cordelia holds her close and cradles the back of her head.

“I missed you, too,” Cordelia whispers, her breath warm against Misty’s neck. And Misty isn’t sure if she’s talking about that awful year in hell, or these past few days of avoidance, but she assumes it’s probably both. “I guess I wasn’t sure how to act around you, either.”

“Oh,” Misty says, pulling back, but reaching immediately for Cordelia’s hands. “And…you’re not mad? About what I said? About those thoughts I was havin’?”

“No.” Cordelia shakes her head, brushing a few curls back behind Misty’s ear. “I want you to want those things. And I…I want them, too.”

Hope rises up inside of Misty, light and full. “You do?” 

“Yes.” Cordelia averts her gaze. “Sometimes I want those things so much it scares me.”

Misty frowns. “I scare you?” 

“No, I-” Cordelia bites her lip. “I suppose I was just worried you wouldn’t-I mean, all of this, the hair and make-up, the outfit, all of it was for you. So you would… see me.”

“But I always see you,” Misty says, and Cordelia laughs sort of sadly and ducks her head.

“I guess old habits die hard.” 

“Oh.”

And at first Misty doesn’t understand her meaning, doesn’t understand the relevance of that particular expression. But then she remembers the way Fiona used to treat Cordelia, the way Hank used to disregard her opinions, and it all falls into place. After all, Misty recalls quite acutely how Fiona once wrinkled her nose at Cordelia in absolute disdain, her lip curled, disgust so palpable Misty could feel the thickness of it in the air around her. And she remembers how Hank raised his voice in the greenhouse, how he reached for Cordelia and tried to persuade her, even after she ordered him to go. 

It pains Misty to think of them, all of those inner demons Cordelia has been fighting on her own, the self-hatred and the feelings of unworthiness she’s been battling for decades. All of that must have taken its toll, quite a heavy one, even if Cordelia is very adept at pretending it hasn’t. 

Misty wants to tell her to ignore those disparaging voices in her head, to put aside all of that doubt. But Misty knows better than most how those awful traumas tend to linger, how they wreck your insides and leave you broken, how they never really go away. The flames still visit her, after all, every time she closes her eyes. So instead, she says this:

“I love you no matter how you dress.” And then, “An’ if I could take all your pain for myself, I would.”

Cordelia smiles at her, and it’s amazing, how being on the receiving end of that smile always makes Misty feel ten feet tall. “I would take your pain for myself, too, Misty. All of it.”

“Have you decided yet?”

Their waiter has returned, all smiles, and he barely lifts an eyebrow at the change in seating.

“Um…we’ll share the chocolate mousse,” Misty says, glancing over at the dessert menu. “Two spoons, please.”

“Great.” Their waiter collects both dessert menus and walks off.

“Misty,” Cordelia says. “I want you to know you can talk to me about anything. There don’t have to be any rules for us. We make the rules. You can say anything you want; I’m not going anywhere.”

“Well,” Misty considers that for a moment. “I guess there’s one thing I wanted to say earlier. It’s actually somethin’ I’ve been wanting to say since I met you.”

“What’s that?”

Misty suddenly feels a bit shy. “I mean, you've probably heard this before,” she says. “But…God, Cordelia, you’re so pretty.”

Cordelia blinks at her, surprised. 

“An' I know,” Misty reiterates. “I know it’s silly, an' you probably get that a lot-”

“Not from you,” Cordelia says softly, staring down at their joined hands, and she sounds so small, so fragile in that moment that Misty’s heart aches for her. 

“Well, then I guess I gotta say it more.”

Cordelia smiles at that, so wide and bright that Misty falls for her all over again.

“I love you,” she says again, because it feels good to say it, and as she leans in to kiss Cordelia, she mumbles it against her lips over and over, until Cordelia breaks away with a laugh, taking Misty’s right hand and cradling it against her chest.

“Me too,” she says. “I love you, too.”

When their dessert arrives, Misty scoops out a spoonful and closes her lips around it. The mousse is rich and delicious, and she moans, very deliberately pulling the spoon from her lips as slowly as she can until she releases it with a pop. When she looks over at Cordelia, Misty finds that her cheeks have gone a bit pink and that her pupils are blown. 

“That’s…that’s mean,” Cordelia says. 

And Misty shrugs, suppressing a smile. 

“Payback’s a bitch.”


End file.
